


Reset

by smellslikecitrus



Category: Supernatural, Travelers (TV)
Genre: Badass Carly Shannon, Crossover, F/M, First Meetings, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I was curious, M/M, Season 7 spoilers ig, but AU season 7
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 15:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17490929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smellslikecitrus/pseuds/smellslikecitrus
Summary: An entire underworld. Ghosts, vampires, shapeshifters, demons,angels, it was all right under their noses. The Director couldn’t predict the outcome of the unknown, couldn’t identify those who walked among the humans it tried to protect. Luckily, Sam and Dean Winchester have a will, if not a way, to stop the ultimate apocalypse: the future.





	Reset

**Author's Note:**

> I really needed this in my life and no one has written it yet so here I am.
> 
> This takes place season 7 SPN and after the reset of the Traveler Program Version Two. Will see how this goes...

“Carly, do you have the target in sight?”

Carly rolled her eyes at the sky briefly before focusing her scope back on the target. “Yes, Mac, I’ve been tailing him for over an hour, of course I wouldn’t let him out of my sight now.” 

“She’s got it, Boss,” Trevor’s calm voice over the comm had her shoulders rising up to her ears on her inhale and holding it a second before dropping back down on her exhale. “I know you’re worried about not being here for this mission, but Carly’s got this. Marcy’s on standby just in case, Philip’s got the traffic cams ready for an escape.”

“Okay, sorry. I was just checking in on you,” Mac defended. Carly could picture him with his hands out, placating, and it made her grit her teeth. He may have been the team leader, but it was he who decided to sit this one out and go on an admittedly much-deserved vacation with Kat. The rest of them were confident in their abilities to finish the mission and Special Agent Grant MacLaren wasn’t needed in the moment.

“Target is on the move. Comms off, he’s going into the dead zone.” Carly tapped her comm, silencing the voices of her teammates and leaving her in quiet.

The warehouse rose out of the ground, dark and foreboding. The target checked his surroundings, missing Carly in her hideout across the street, then ducked into the unassuming door in the side of the blocky building. Carly followed, hefting the duffle bag that contained her weapons over her shoulder as she went.

Skirting around a shiny black car, Carly dropped her bag in the alley between the warehouse and another building. She tested the handle to the side door, finding it locked. She opened her bag, searching for the lock pick equipment that Trevor had so graciously parted with and knelt to get a better view of the door. 

Distantly, she could hear voices on the inside, a deep tough tone that raged in the echoes of the large space and a softer, pointed voice that twisted with the deep and made for a formidable duo. She breathed in and out again, the lock clicking as it allowed her to enter.

She proceeded softly, keeping the door open with the duffle while unzipping it to arm herself with a few weapons so she would have more to fight with if it came to that. She was the Tactician, after all.

Creeping swiftly around boxes, Carly made her way through the maze of crates to find the Traveler that was suspected of turning against the Grand Plan. Faction had been gaining more and more followers of late, their lies about knowing what was better for the future too seductive even for the most devout followers of the Director. Well, maybe not the _most_ devout. Grace was still on their side.

She held her handgun steady, pointed at the ground but alert, her knives a reassuring weight against her thighs. Silently making her way to three figures swathed in shadows, one of whom she was sure had to be the target, Carly listened for a moment. The voices that she had heard earlier were from the newcomers, rumbling lowly across the space between them.

“…tell Crowley that he can stuff his deals up his ass! We know that he has people in the government, we just want to know what he’s planning with Dick.” The deep voice was talking, belonging to the shorter, bow-legged guy holding an aerosol can, the red paint still fresh under the Traveler’s feet. The Traveler who was tied to a chair. In the middle of what looked like a satanic symbol painted on the floor. Confused and suspicious, Carly weighed her options with a furrowed brow while the men interrogated the Traveler.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the target insisted. His host’s pale skin was shining with sweat and he squirmed, uneasy. “Please, I was told you two were FBI. You must know MacLaren!”

Carly blinked. The Traveler was trying to get in contact with Mac? Maybe he had information that the team needed—information about Faction. 

She wasn’t able to make a further analysis of the situation because the two men cornering the Traveler brought out the big guns. Literally.

“Dean, I definitely said ‘no’ to the grenade launcher!” The tall man with the long brown hair made a face at his companion. “It won’t even kill the guy.”

Dean, from what Carly could see of his turned profile, pouted with a childish whine, “Sam…” but dropped the grenade launcher gently in a duffle bag not unlike hers. The man who had spoken advanced on the increasingly uncomfortable Traveler with a sawed-off shotgun. Carly had seen enough.

“Drop your weapons and identify yourselves,” Carly spoke clearly and calmly, though her gun was pointed at the armed man and the safety was off.

Dean made an aborted movement toward his duffle, but hesitated when he caught sight of Carly’s stone expression and official-looking suit. He whispered out of the side of his mouth at his partner, “who the hell is this chick?” but complied, abandoning his bag to turn slowly with his hands out in front of him.

With all three men facing her, Carly repeated her command, looking directly at the target as she did so.

“Traveler 4515,” the target spoke quickly, glancing between the two men in front of him.

“I am Traveler 3465, I heard you needed contact with MacLaren?” She motioned with her head for the two men to get out of the way, gun still at the ready. They obeyed quietly, not sure who the new arrival was.

“Yes, I have information about Faction. What should we do with… these two?” The target jerked his head disdainfully at the pair between them, Carly still wary of all three of the group.

“ _We_ won’t be doing anything. You will tell me what you need MacLaren for—I’m part of his team, and if you didn’t have that damn signal blaster on you could’ve talked to him through me.” The Target gave an apologetic half-smile, but gestured to his hands, tied up behind him.

Carly narrowed her eyes at his manner, which had relaxed considerably now that the two men who had been interrogating him had backed off. “I still have a mission to complete. You’ve been off the radar for too long, 4515.” Carly monitored him as she came closer, her gun still aimed at the two men standing off to the side of him.

“Don’t step inside the cir—” The absurdly tall man stopped when Carly, already inside the circle, glared at him and cocked her gun. With one hand, she untied the Traveler from the chair, and stepped away to give him space while he stood up to face her.

“There were… unfortunate incidents with my team. They’re all dead or turned. I’ve told you, I need to speak with MacLaren directly.” The target shifted on his feet, shoulders tense. Carly’s eyes cut to him as he took a tiny step closer, body coiled like a spring. 

The voice she attached to Dean called out then, unnaturally loud in the tension of the room. “Hey, I see you’re a little busy, can me and my brother go? We got things to hunt, people to save, you know how it is. Just make sure you exorcise the bastard when you’re done with him.”

At the taller man’s grumbling about staying quiet, Carly’s attention wavered on the man in front of her long enough for him to strike.

He lunged forward to knock the gun out of her hand. Carly couldn’t recover from the blow in time to grab it, and it skittered away, out of reach of both her and the target. She brought her knee up between his legs and delivered an uppercut to his stomach at the same time to give her time to grab her knives, drawing them with a quick flick of her wrist.

The Traveler took out a knife of his own and twirled it before gripping it tightly and raising it to slash down her front. His technique was too sloppy, obviously not a Tactician. An Engineer, perhaps. She used the opportunity to lock her arms, still holding her knives, and use his momentum to drive his face into her knee. A crunch and a spray of blood, and she disengaged from the sudden dead weight to go for her gun, sitting a safe distance five feet away. 

As she dropped the Traveler, he grabbed her leg, tripping her and dragging himself forward. She kicked his hand off but didn’t see the knife in time as it came down, slicing deep into her hip. Searing pain exploded up her side, and she screamed as he wrenched the knife free. He came down again with another stab, but she rolled, pivoted, and threw herself forward next to the gun, coming up aimed at the Traveler, panting.

Blood was streaming down over his lips, a gruesome smile already spreading over his face before two gunshots sounded and he froze, looking down with that same smile at the holes in his chest. He looked back up, indifferent to the wounds, and stared at her balefully.

His eyes flicked and were entirely black.

Carly shook her head and the moment was gone. It must be the blood loss.

Nothing happened for a few seconds, stretched out to eternity, but then he jerked, an eerie red light illuminating his face from the inside as he screamed. He fell face down, revealing a knife in his back, Dean’s throwing arm still extended. Carly’s gun was directed at him next, but was forced to concede that she was outnumbered.

She scooted so her back was pressed against a nearby crate, setting her gun down and wiping her knives on her pant legs before sheathing them. Next, ignoring the perplexed looks at her apparent lack of concern toward the two armed men, Carly ripped the lower part of her shirt for a makeshift bandage, pressing it to her side as it soaked with blood almost immediately. 

Still ignoring Sam and Dean, she closed her eyes against the dizziness as she used the crates to help her stand, breathing harshly through her nose at the pain.

Dean had a controlled look of admiration on his face, and Sam was figuring out what to do with the bad-ass injured woman standing next to the thing that Dean killed. They should probably take her to a hospital. 

Carly glared at them defiantly and said, “I’m going to walk out of here alive or my team is going to bust in and make sure you don’t see the light of day again.”

Dean snorted and Sam ran his hands through his hair. “Do you know what you just tried to kill?”

“Do you?” Carly retorted, already staggering with a hand on her side to the exit, keeping a wide berth around the two men.

Carly glanced down at the nearby body, stooped to rummage in his pocket, and succeeded in pulling out a small device, on which she turned a knob. Pressing a hand to her neck, just under her ear, she tapped and breathed a sigh of relief.

“That was one of many monsters on a long list of monsters that come nowhere near close to the worst I have seen, lady,” Dean drawled as he watched her make her way to the exit, losing blood fast. 

“Yeah, I guess you could call us monsters,” Carly scoffed quietly, making Sam’s eyebrows rise. 

“You said you had a team?” Sam called after her as she reached the door. It was odd that they were letting her leave without even attempting to question her, but she figured it seemed like she needed help and could get it without their assistance. Besides, she wasn’t a threat to them in her current state.

“I did, didn’t I?” Carly’s hand was on the handle as she made her exit, taking a quick note of the men’s appearances. Sam and Dean. Philip could run them through and see if they get anything on them, they could be useful. They didn’t even seem fazed at the exchange of identities. Maybe they’ve worked with Travelers before.

She didn’t see the two men follow her out stealthily, or watch her speak to no one as she exited the building, telling Marcy to bring a med kit. She didn’t catch them sliding into the car parked near the alley, or hear the distinctive squeak of the doors closing, too distracted by Trevor’s calm voice filtered over the comm telling her to breathe, that he was almost there. 

The van whipped around the corner, arms lifting Carly inside. Marcy patched her up and Trevor, in the front, relayed information to Mac. Carly nodded at his questions and said she would brief everyone when they got to headquarters. 

No one saw the black ‘67 Chevy Impala following a safe distance behind, tailing them like Carly had tailed the target. 

Sam and Dean were already calling Bobby for debriefing and to come up with a plan. They needed answers, and their case was just beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Frustrated with the ending of Travelers, I return and wonder,,,  
> What would happen if possession and over-writing happened in the same universe?  
> Who would have more power, God or the Director?  
> Good questions, not enough answers.  
> Will update when I can.


End file.
